Swamp Culture
by permanentwhite
Summary: SasuNaru It's like flying, for a moment. PWP, nonlinear


**Title:** Swamp Culture (one shot)  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warning:** limeylemon (M/M, DEAL WITH IT!), cursing, implied drug use, PWP, nonlinear (and wordy haha)  
**Disclaimer:** Naruto doesn't belong to me.  
**Pairing:** SasuNaru(Sasu) 

* * *

It's like flying, for a moment. He's beautiful like this, even when anxiety grips him, his arms are teasing glimpses of flesh hiding behind bands of leather and cotton and polyester, among all other genuine, artificial, all man-made, man-beaten textiles.

"I'll make your night, baby," he whispers, trying so hard to be jokingly seductive; his effort is commendable, Sasuke thinks, briefly, and his hands ghost over the missing studs, plucked by impatient fingers, gaps between the teeth on the former's belt. Bottle blondes--blonds--are never as good as the real thing, at least, that's what he tells himself, and it almost seems true. It's dark in the alley, two blocks from the club and Sasuke almost doesn't notice the boy's sweaty palm curved around his fingers in a frenetic dash for the door, laughter bubbling from his oddly glossy lips, and Sasuke finds that he is laughing as well, for no reason. "The bass is straight from a porno," the blond whispered conspiratorially, his voice so deep and strong and reverberating, mirroring the sinful pulse and Sasuke could feel the shock and shake through his entire being, or maybe it was the vision of the fairy-like, ethereal boy before him, the bird-bones in his hand forming a cup around his mouth, his tongue wetting his lips between words...

One hit of the devil's sugar and it's all that Sasuke can think of, and it's the blood in his head, overflowing out of his ears, and it's perfect. It springs and sprints, water on bone-dry, marrow-flavored skin, and he stares at the veins in his arm in awe, while the boy, the shiny nametag on his breast pocket, 'Naruto', giggles beside him, squeezing his thigh.

It seems that in a blink of an eye they're spirited away from the dark alley where Naruto pushed him up against a wall and kissed his mouth, riding the high along with him, his lips, soft and leathery at the same time, against his neck. He remembered saying, or starting to say something along the lines of a generic, "We're moving a little bit fast for my taste," before he stopped himself, realizing he liked Naruto's taste _much_ better. It's better when their teeth clack so hard that Sasuke feels like his skull is rattling, better when it's awkward and unplanned, and Naruto's gravelly, annoying voice, his murmurs, sending, not for the first time this night, shivers all along his spine, they slither all the way to and around his brain, tiny bombs.

His mind wanders. They're in a cafe, and Sasuke's careful not to hang his head too far so he won't choke on his own saliva or swallow his tongue, and warms his hands on a mug of coffee, while Naruto sits across from him, button up-down shirt hanging open, skin, sweat, slick muscle, and he's hypnotized, maybe. All of what he's ever wanted in a sweet little package, and cheap cologne mixed with perspiration is strangely attractive, he thinks, when it's worn by someone who cares so little. When Naruto bends his head to catch the foam of his cappuccino with his tongue, his long bangs drip onto the worn wooden table, and Sasuke wants to grab the clawed, ringed hand and push _him_ against the wall.

And after that, well, he would leave it up to his insatiable, carnal desire.

It controls him, and he's bathed, drowned, doomed to be consumed in the overwhelming heat and passion and speed of their sex. Naruto grabs Sasuke's boner through his pants, making quick work of the mess of buttons and zippers, and works with surprising ease and familiarity. A pretty wind-up, ball-joint doll on his hands and knees, downing the head of Sasuke's dick. It pops out of his mouth a few seconds later when Naruto scrunches his nose, complaining, "You're not coming fast enough," before spitting on both of his hands before swallowing the head again, working, jerking Sasuke's shaft, and Sasuke can do nothing but gasp and stare at Naruto's sparkly eyelids. The men's bathroom, complete with a lock, is a filthy place to do this sort of thing, but Sasuke only dwells on that fact for a second before spraying his load into Naruto's mouth and onto the blond's cheek. At this, the other boy grins, before he chirps, "I've been practicing that technique for a while now..."

Someone has been knocking at the door to the stall they pressed themselves into--a dozen clowns into a tiny car--but when Sasuke all but groans Naruto's name while threading his fingers through the spun gold of his hair, watching his own hands in wonder, the knocks stop, only to be replaced by the slight shuffling of dirty shoes on the wet bathroom floor. The shot he had gotten earlier in the day, steroids for his clogged sinuses, throbs still, but it's better now. Seconds after the doctor stabbed his arm--push, push, push--he was sore... Oh yeah, he was sore, but now all he can think about is his cum all over Naruto's face. "Just so you know," he croaks, "I don't sleep with dirty sluts."

As perkily as ever, "Whatever made you think that I was?" Naruto pulls Sasuke down and breathes fire onto Sasuke's lips, cold-hot fingers pulling at Sasuke's balls.

He had dreamed lies from Itachi's truths, and for that, he felt the burning shame that hid, retreated behind his ears, an embarrassing, flaming red. He feels it now, as he runs his fingers through the downy locks of Naruto's feathered, blond hair, rays of light caught under his nails.

Naruto ends up in his arms--not at a seedy love hotel, whose designer-manager was hellbent on emulating well-manicured perfection (imperfection?) of a steamy first time--but in _Sasuke's_ penthouse apartment, lights strategically dimmed. He wonders, for a moment, why he takes such pains to satisfy someone like Naruto, but when he gazes into Naruto's cool blue eyes, he feels a chill that shatters his wayward thoughts. Sasuke finds himself staring at his own index finger as it follows a slow and steady path along the side of Naruto's face, breezing over the soft, yielding flesh. He recalls watching Naruto's bony wrists with a strange hunger, as the other brought his mug to his lips, his blue eyes flashing with a sort of energy Sasuke couldn't put his finger on, not really. His hands find a place in the sensuous dip of Naruto's back. Naruto is like putty in his arms, or more like quicksilver; overpowering, poisonous, hypnotically-unconventionally beautiful.

Sasuke slips his right hand into the back of Naruto's tight, tight jeans, and Naruto squirms. Naruto's tongue is slick and soft against his own, and Sasuke closes his eyes, unable to look at Naruto's face, lovely as he moans into Sasuke's mouth. He hears a whispered, grunted, "You feel good," before it trails off, and Sasuke notes how fresh Naruto tastes, his spit cool even when his compact body burned at Sasuke's touch. He's left his fingerprints all over this boy, and he doesn't want them to be washed away. Sasuke pushes his hand up Naruto's shirt, and pulls Naruto towards him, ignoring the almost reluctant squeak that the blond boy emits, ignoring it because it just complicates things...

"I've never been anywhere this nice," Naruto whispers into his ear, his hands hiking up Sasuke's undershirt along with his crisp, white Oxford. The buttons are all wrong. Both Naruto and Sasuke had hastily redone the shirt, their fingers fumbling over each other, and had rushed out in each others arms, Naruto in a fit of giggles and in his arms. "And, and, you're hot, Sasuke," he's licking a trail along Sasuke's neck, giddy, out of breath, "really hot," he stops at the jugular, and nips lightly at Sasuke's flushed skin. "So, what do you think of me?" Sasuke can smell the sweat on his skin, and strangely, it all fits, the scent of his hair, body, clothes, whatever, it envelopes him--a velvet glove. He isn't sure if he likes it.

"What about you?" Naruto's laugh is throaty, loud, long, rich.

"What's a rich boy like you doing with trash like me?" his eyes are slits of sparkling blue, sapphires? The thoughts and descriptions flitting across Sasuke's brain are tacky, and he thinks no words can describe this fixation--_his_ fixation--properly.

"We're all trash," it's uncharacteristic for him to say this--Sasuke knows this fact more than anyone--but he can't help but see the slight relief, mixed with a mischievious glint in Naruto's eyes, the second he utters those words. Sasuke can't help but focus his gaze on Naruto's left cheek, watching the muscle twitch slightly in his amusement. He had first seen Naruto mopping up the mess the patrons before him had made, and the first thing he noticed was that everything about him was bleached, burned by the sun. And he was hot. The blond boy with the blue shirt was who everyone had been talking about, who Hyuuga Neji had personally requested be their server after he had dragged Sasuke there, the one that everyone flirted with, the one that flirted with everyone right back.

Naruto had tilted his head, given Sasuke a sidelong glance--the corner of his lip turned up, devious, mischievious (let's not forget that)--Sasuke was caught in his trap. He watched Naruto's tapered fingers, wrapped around the pen, the lazy, ugly, endearing way his writing curved as he took their orders while tapping his foot to the mellow beat of the music in the background. Of course, Sasuke can't remember what the music sounded like, only that it was low, or at least low in his mind, in his ears. At that moment, watching Naruto's beautiful face, he only heard the sound of waves crashing. Peace, sand, sex, possession.

When a boy grows up a teenage sex god, there isn't a place in the world that is big enough for his ego.

"Fuck, Sasuke," Naruto shudders, "fuck!" His normally nasal voice is hoarse; it brings Sasuke back to the present, and Sasuke can only watch in awe as Naruto rubs his raw throat with his calloused, tanned fingers. Naruto's moves seem calculated in Sasuke's eyes, all of which are to drive Sasuke into a maddening, oversexed state of mind. He bends his head and nurses Naruto's flushed, erect nipples, thinking about how the boy's skin is spicy, tangy, bitter, delicious. Sasuke thinks, as Naruto curses, over and over again, '_Just shut up,_' as his body forces Naruto's to move with it. Shut up and move, and it's like this blond boy with the tight, slightly bony ass, was made to obey his very beck and call. He moves his hands over the boy's too-tight jeans, feeling every fold, feeling the seams pressing into the flesh of Naruto's inner thighs.

Slowly, he peels the blond's clothes off and drops him--_hot_--on the satiny sheets, the sound of Naruto's legs moving up and down the bed is all that fills Sasuke's mind. It takes all his barely contained self control to keep from ripping off his already half-undone shirt and pants, and lay against Naruto's tanned body, pressing his thumbs into Naruto's puckered, pink asshole, while running his tongue against his lean side, skin stretched taut against bones.

Sasuke stares into Naruto's eyes for the millionth time that night, observing Naruto's dilated pupils against blue irises, the lights overhead reflected, as his eyes flutter shut, squeeze shut, a low vibration in his throat, purring, whining, clawing at his back. Naruto pulls his face up and stares back into his eyes, then closer, snarls into his ear, hot breath slashing up Sasuke's eardrums, his whispers loud enough to fill the air around them. "S-shit, fuck, just do it--" he sighs, and Sasuke takes this as a cue to finally end any sort of foreplay, finish lubing up (he could break records with how quickly his hands moved), finish everything. Finish the both of them. But it doesn't end there, his blood, adrenaline, everything filling his veins and his muscles, he watches, fascinated--detached, almost--the veins in his arm as he jerks Naruto into oblivion. When he presses his cock into Naruto, he can feel the blood rushing through it, and Sasuke feels like his stomach had risen to his throat; he gags, pleasure filling the void in his torso.

Somewhere between shouting his praise for sex to the ceiling, and falling forward against Naruto, again, and again, Sasuke watched the fluorescent lights overhead swirl and augment, before Naruto's arms snaked around him and pulled his face down toward his own. _This is it,_ Sasuke thought, as he examined every flicker of the blond's trembling lashes, and all he wants to do is lie in bed, forget the world, kiss Naruto's mouth. When he pulls out, it's sloppy, a mess, just like their tumultuous, shallow, yet somehow, fated?, relationship. It must be destiny, like everything else in his life, everything happens for a reason, the way they met _without_ reason that night, the way Naruto's face lit up when he recognized him from across the bar, his lips forming Sasuke's name, voice lost in the sound-saturated air.

Sasuke closes his eyes, squeezes them shut, and seeing the red flashing, dull, bright lights behind his lids, he sees planes fly overhead, small and white, streaking the white clouds and sky. Itachi's new world, fresh, quivering, brave; everything he was not, hiding in a penthouse suite overlooking the world, nights filled with sordid stories and too much coffee and too many syringes. He feels Naruto under him, breathing already, almost evening out--he's stolen by sleep. Sasuke pushes his hands down, feeling blindly, before Naruto's hands, thin, firm, soft, yet calloused, meet his own, and he pulls Sasuke down, down, down.

Sleep, dreams of a new world order, but first... sleep.

"When I was a baby, my father killed himself." Naruto's voice is a dull knife against the throbbing pain in Sasuke's head, so soft, strained, far away. Sasuke cracks open an eye and only sees the fuzzy white around Naruto, and the blond looks like an angel--he could go to heaven if only Sasuke would let him go, he could fly away--"That's what everyone tells me, anyway," his voice breaks the fantasy, and things are dark again, more focused.

What does it matter? Everything--everyone dies. Mother, Father, Itachi, all swept up neatly under the rug that matches the curtains that somehow match the trashcan. It all fits, maybe.

"So maybe I'm a monster," Sasuke can vaguely see bony knees and bony elbows bending into acute angles.

He saves this word, _monster_, folds it up until it's smaller than an atom, slips his hands in his slacks. Sasuke's tongue slips over his lips, whispering it.

"And maybe you're not," his voice cracks on the last word, but it's all worth it when he sees Naruto's smile--only his mouth, curving delicately. Sasuke rolls over again in the bed, but not even his hand can shield his eyes from how blinding everything looked. It's only hours later that he realizes he had fallen asleep, but only moments later when he discovers Naruto's note, illegibly scrawled digits next to his name. He smirks and buries his face in the pillow, smelling like fresh laundry and musk, rolling the piece of paper in his fingers.

He could get used to this.

* * *

**A/N:** Originally posted on the LJ comm, sasuxnaru, somewhat betaed, put to the side, and then I decided to make an AFF account. C&C is encouraged. 


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